


gods don't need co-pilots (but friends are always welcome)

by AslansCompass



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, No Ward, Trip replaces Ward, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-22 22:09:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17671049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AslansCompass/pseuds/AslansCompass
Summary: How might Phil Coulson, God of Badass Secret Agents, handle season one of Agents of Shield? A (somewhat) lighthearted fic based on TardisistheOnlyWaytoTravel's "The God of Badass Secret Agents."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The God of Badass Secret Agents](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6383086) by [TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel). 



 S.H.I.E.L.D. Trauma Zentrum, Zurich, Switzerland:

 

> _"Are you saying there's nothing that can be done?"_
> 
> _"I'm saying you need to call her family."  
>  _
> 
> _"We're her family."_
> 
> _"In that case, I'm very sorry."_

 

Phil burst into the containment room, interrupting May's beat-down of Quinn.  "May, May, outside!"

The door slammed behind them. "He deserves to die, not her."

"Agreed. But right now, he doesn't matter. Only Skye does. I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"Get a sticky note."

May stared at him. "What?"

"Sticky note, now."

"Phil, I don't understand."

"I don't have time to explain. Get a sticky note and write what I tell you."

May rummaged through the cupboards, coming up up with a pen and paper.  "Got it."

"Write this: Coulson, one of my teammates got shot on a routine op. Please let her be okay. May." 

May scribbled the note. "Now what?"

"Stick it on my office door," Phil set his hands on her shoulder. "Do you trust me?"

"Phil--"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Do it."

He could tell instantly when she'd finished. Hundreds of small concerns faded to the back of his mind. This was a Request (and when did he start using capital letters anyway?) from a close friend, about an op he had personally overseen. This was his duty. 

Skye was going to be fine.

* * *

 "It just doesn't make sense," the surgeon said, shaking his head.  "She was shot twice in the stomach at close range, hypotensive and tachycardic; the large and small intestines were destroyed. Even with the surgery, it was only a matter of time. But moments after surgery, her vitals began to improve. Her blood replenished at a remarkable rate." He pointed to a sheet of scan results. "No evidence of trauma. _None_."

Phil took the file. "Thank you."

"This wasn't us. I hate to say it, but the only word to use is miraculous. It's like none of it ever happened." 

After Phil and May left the office, May finally spoke up. "What the hell did you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not stupid. I know you did this somehow. All that business with the sticky note--you had something to do with it. And don't tell me it's classified. "

"May--"

"There's something different about you, Phil. Has been since New York.  I thought it was just rumors, but these last few weeks--just little things at first, but I've been paying attention. You know things, can do things.  Things that shouldn't be possible."

Phil had hoped to avoid this conversation. But even if other things could be rationalized, this was the price of using his power openly.

Without his powers, Skye would be dead now.

Letting May in on the secret was a small price to pay. "I'm the God of Badass Secret Agents."

 


	2. Chapter 2

Phil wasn't _always_ omniscient.

Sure, he could look at any passing agent and rattle off name, age, rank, security level, and the last five missions they'd been on, but the ability had a very strict sense of office hours.  He didn't need to know the financial status of the driver who just ran a red light or the schedule of the gas station clerk, so he didn't. It didn't even work on office poker parties. (So, yes, he could lose three rounds in a row.) 

 _Given name: Mary Sue Poots. Registered with St. Agnes September 1988.  Member of Rising Tide._  Background info, no different that he received on other ops. The high number of foster homes implied several things, none of them good, but--

**REDACTED BY SHIELD.**

Not to him, of course.  He could access any information, any file, regardless of clearance, with less effort than googling the weather. But he marked the file for another time.  Right now, he had to focus on the job at hand. 

Skye took another sip of her mocha. "And why should I even talk to you?"

"I did buy you lunch," Trip pointed out.  "I might even be tempted to go for desert. The honey rolls look excellent."

Phil couldn't help grinning. Ops staff generally weren't great with people, but Trip was an exception.  When Phil offered him a choice of tactics for approaching the Rising Tide member, Trip had voted for the softer approach. 

"Nice try, but you can't bribe me so easily. I know what you guys do. You covered up New Mexico, Project Pegasus, of course you'd be covering Centipede."

Yes, Phil could access any information in SHIELD databases in less than a minute. But it only worked on information SHIELD already had. 

And where Centipede was concerned, that file was awfully thin.

She mistook his reflection for confusion. " No way. You guys don't know what Centipede is, do you? Billions of dollars in technology and staff and I beat you to the punchline with a laptop I won in a bet!"

"Look, you clearly have some skills. But that's not why we're here."( _Liar_ , his omniscience screamed at him. This girl _is/will be_ important, world-changing, like Thor and Stark and Hawkeye.) "If we've heard about your friend, others have too. And they might not be so interested in talking. Maybe they'll want to use him. Maybe they'll cut him up. I've seen what happens when people get powers they can't control."

"But Mike isn't-- he wouldn't do that. He's not interested in fame or power."

 _Mike._ Coulson noted the name. With that and the rescue footage, he should be able to find out what he needed to know. "Maybe not. But all it would take is one moment, one loss of control. He punched holes into a brick wall. What happens the next time someone cuts in line? The next time he's pumping gas and squeezes too hard?"

"So I should trust you? Or is this the part where someone starts playing bad cop?" She glanced from Coulson to Trip and back again.  "Honestly, though, I'm not even sure either of you could pull it off."

"Well, just in case you change your mind," Phil offered her a business card.  "See you around."

"Yeah, right," Skye scoffed, heading out the door. 

"Got it?" Phil asked.

"Please." Trip slide his phone open. "Tracker planted and broadcasting."


End file.
